Eddie Pepitone

There’s something Don Rickles doesn’t know: Eddie Pepitone is his bastard son. Arguably, both share a familial trait for ranting, but Rickles has a good case for skipping child support. Pepitone, unlike Mr. Warmth, suffers from a multipersonality disorder onstage. The voices in Pepitone’s head — mostly blue-collar types from Brooklyn and Staten Island — are known for taking over his routine. And, boy, are they pissed.

If you could drive into any storefront, which one would it be?

The Grove. It’s too fucking corporate. I’d derail the trolley.

There’s been talk of a standup comedians’ union in New York. Do we need one here?

Yes, I want to be the Jimmy Hoffa head of it. I want to start brutalizing hacks who are bringing down our working wage.

If you had the Teamsters behind you, who would you wage war with in L.A.?

The Mexicans selling fruit on the corner. They’re taking too much money out of the pockets of Ralphs.

You recently landed a part on Malcolm in the Middle. Why are you typecast in teenager roles?

I guess it’s the price I pay for being bald and over 200 pounds. A lot of teenagers today are obese, so I’m just fitting into this role.

You’ve been known to heckle yourself from the audience. The most hellacious insult you’ve hurled at yourself?